Last Christmas
by ofcatsandwomen
Summary: Third year law student Matt Murdock, not yet Daredevil, spends Christmas with his father for the last time. A very belated Christmas fic.


_He knew he had knocked something over before it even hit the floor. He had reached out and misjudged the distance between himself and the shelf by just a couple of inches, and then he felt the small object move past him, like the hint of a shadow or a mild tickle, before shattering into a what seemed like a million pieces._

_Matt stood frozen in place. There wasn't much he could do about what had already happened anyway, and he didn't want to step in whatever was now all over the floor, and probably buried in the carpet under the coffee table as well. Within a couple of seconds, he could hear his father's thundering footsteps move from the kitchen table where he'd been seated moments earlier looking through what Matt guessed was the sports section of the paper. That was all he ever read. He didn't have any money in the stock market, and the things happening farther away than the five boroughs were of only marginal importance._

"_Matt, stay right where you are!" Matt was surprised to find the expected concern in Jack's voice to be laced with anger. He swallowed hard and dropped his head while his father walked back into the kitchen to get a dust pan and broom. He had to bite down hard to push back the tears which threatened to well up as unexpectedly as the anger in his father's demeanor. He was too old to be spoken to that way. And he was too old for tears too, he reminded himself._

_Before long, Jack was kneeling at his son's feet, chasing every last stray shard of porcelain. He said nothing, and the silence bothered Matt more than anything. "Dad… I'm sorry."_

"_Matt, I don't want to hear it. Do you realize what you've done? Do you?" The concern was gone, and there was only anger left. Matt knew his father was looking up at him, and he could hear his heart racing._

"_I don't… What did I break? I'm really sorry, I'll try to be more careful. I didn't know." Matt wondered what happened to taking it like a man, because he could hear himself as if from a distance, and he sounded nothing like the man he was trying to be. He sounded like a child begging for forgiveness for his clumsiness._

_Jack sighed, his anger suddenly gone and replaced with something far worse: sorrow. "No, I'm sorry Matty. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You couldn't help it. It's okay, you hear?"_

_Matt swallowed hard and nodded. He was still in shock and found himself go limp in Jack's embrace when the older man got to his feet and pulled him in. He was probably too old for hugs too, but he didn't care. Jack stepped away, but his hands were still on Matt's shoulders._

"_It's okay, kid. You hear?" Jack sounded like he was pleading with him, hoping to erase this entire unfortunate incident._

"_Okay." Matt could only manage a whisper, but it would have to do. "What did I break?" He tried to search his memory for which of his father's belongings would warrant such an outburst, but he couldn't think of a single one. Then again, maybe hid dad was just wearing himself too thin. The last few months had been trying times for both of them._

"_It's nothing, Matty. Nothing important. Let's not worry about this anymore, okay?" Matt felt Jack's hand on his neck. It was meant to be an affectionate gesture, but Matt instantly jerked back. "Please, forgive me."_

"_Yeah, I… I forgive you."_

ooOoo

Almost ten years later, Matt Murdock, third year law student stood on the sidewalk outside his old building in Hell's Kitchen. His best friend Foggy, with whom he shared both an off-campus suite and a field of study lifted Matt's battered suitcase from the trunk of his parked car.

"You want me to carry this upstairs?"

"No, I'll get it, if you get the door." Momentarily distracted by the familiarity of the place, Matt quickly turned around. Foggy had placed the bag on his right, and he bent down to pick it up. Inside were enough clothes to get him through Christmas.

"I guess I'll just go with you upstairs and say hi to your dad." Foggy stuck his hands deep in his pockets and walked up the front steps.

"So, he doesn't scare you anymore, huh?" Matt teased.

"Oh please, I haven't been scared of your dad in years." Foggy held the heavy front door open and followed Matt inside. The stairwell was painted in a strange shade of green that revealed a decades old floral print wallpaper where the paint had been stripped away. The place had a funky smell to it too.

"Foggy?" Matt laughed and started heading up the stairs. All around, he could hear floors being walked on, conversations, laughter and hushed warnings directed at disobedient children.

"Okay, so I haven't been scared of him in the last _couple of _years." Foggy laughed too and gave Matt a brotherly pat on the back.

Jack Murdock's apartment was on the fourth floor and the paper-thin walls hadn't been enough to keep the laughter of the young men from reaching him. Foggy found him waiting for them in the doorway.

"Hey, Jack," Foggy relaxed when he noticed the older man smiling back. It had taken him two years to get past 'Mr. Murdock', but that was a long time ago now.

"Foggy," Jack said with a nod and turned his attention to his son. Matt had finally outgrown him by about two inches, and the relatively classy wardrobe made his once scrawny kid look every bit like the grown man he'd become. "Welcome home, son."

"Thanks, Dad." Matt put the bag down and let his father pull him into one of those manly hugs that Foggy referred to as 'the Gillette', apparently because if featured heavily in TV commercials for razors and shaving creams.

"Well, look at you," Jack said and pushed Matt back a little so he could he study him more closely, "you planning on going on one of them job interviews, or what?"

Matt shrugged. He wasn't exactly wearing a suit and tie, just some slacks and a half-decent overcoat. Foggy took the opportunity to speak up instead.

"Hey, all the girls are fighting to take him shopping. I think they're on some kind of schedule." Foggy frowned when he noticed a hint of concern in Jack's face. "But he's very price conscious, don't worry. Right Matt?"

"Yeah, gotta stick to that budget. But I guess I'm like a live-size Ken doll or something." Matt smiled at his father. "Are you going to let us in?"

"Of course," Jack stepped to the side inside the cramped foyer and backed into the living room. "And there's a tree here, where we usually put it."

"Yeah, it smells like a forest in here." Matt inhaled deeply. He really did like that evergreen smell; it was so different from most things in the city. "We haven't had one of those in years."

"Well, they were selling them real cheap outside the supermarket, so I figgered what the heck."

"Yeah, good call." Matt put his cane in the corner near the front door and took his coat off. "Foggy, you wanna come inside for a couple of minutes?"

"Thanks, but I've gotta get going. I didn't put any money in the meter." In all the years Foggy had known Matt, he'd only been to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen a half-dozen times. It was home to Matt, but it always gave him a slightly claustrophobic feeling.

"Okay. Well, thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Matt."

"You too. See you in a few days." Matt felt Foggy's hand on his arm and quickly pulled him into another one of those manly hugs.

"Say hello to your folks," Jack added and smiled at his son's oddly dressed best friend. Foggy was wearing a funny-looking hat with reindeer on it - probably knitted by some relative - and a thick coat that looked like it cost good money but didn't quite fit him right. "And thanks for bringing Matty home."

"Sure, I'll stop by on the 26th to take him off your hands," Foggy joked. "That okay with you, Matt?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. Just give us a call when you're heading over here. Oh, and don't forget to tease Candace for me."

"Yeah, like I could help myself." Foggy laughed. His sister had just started college and was as intense as she'd always been. She had dreams of becoming an investigative reporter, and Foggy knew that she'd be great at raising hell. "Bye, you guys."

Jack gave Foggy a final nod and Matt reached back to close the door. Jack bent down to pick up Matt's bag and walked into the small living room, which opened to the kitchen on the left, his own bedroom on the right and Matt's old room straight ahead, which was right next to the bathroom. "I'll put your bag on your bed."

"Thanks." Matt walked into the room, and felt a branch brush his arm. With the size of the living room, it was unavoidable that the Christmas tree would jut into the path of anyone walking by. Aside from that scent, the place was as it had always been. Going back home was almost like time traveling. Some things changed, much too quickly, but the apartment in Hell's Kitchen was always the same.

Jack dumped Matt's belongings on his bed and looked around one last time for anything out of place. It wasn't the first time the thought crossed his mind that the only good thing about his son's blindness was that it at least forced him to be disciplined about keeping the place organized. But Matt hadn't lived there in years and Jack had allowed himself to slack off. He immediately remembered what he'd forgotten when he heard Matt call from the kitchen.

"Dad, did you move everything around in here?" Matt had opened the refrigerator to get a glass of milk, but things weren't where they used to be. He would have had little problem sniffing out what he wanted through the complex blend of layered scents, and matching that with the appropriate shape, though he wasn't used to having to look in the first place.

"God, I'm sorry. I knew there was something... What did you want?" Jack felt a pang of guilt, but Matt himself looked amused, even as Jack pushed him aside and started putting the out of place items back where they belonged.

"I was just looking for some milk." Matt felt a cold milk carton pushed into his hands. "Dad, it's cool. I haven't actually _lived _here in years."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have forgotten. So much for making you feel welcome, huh?" Jack shrugged, deciding to let himself off the hook.

"You can't think of everything." Matt opened the cabinet over the sink and got himself a glass. At least those were where they were supposed to be. "Besides, I don't expect the world to revolve around me."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't want..." He was going to say that he didn't want Matt to have to struggle, but Jack knew that would only be met with a disgruntled sigh. He took a seat at the kitchen table and waited while Matt poured his glass full. "Here, come sit with me."

"Sure thing." Matt was wondering if it was time for the typical battery of end of the semester questions.

"So, you all done with your school work?"

"Yeah, the last of my finals was the day before yesterday. I think I did okay on all of them."

"I see." Jack nodded. He had very little knowledge of what Matt actually did to get all those good grades or what the classes were even about, but he did understand scores and marks. And he knew what success was.

"Anything else you want to know?" Matt teased.

"No, I just want to know you're doing okay. And I'm not just talking about the school work."

"Well, that's a much bigger question then. But to answer the much bigger question, I'm doing fine. Can't wait to be done with school though."

"Yeah, you've worked real hard. I'm proud of you."

"I know, Dad."

"Just a few months, and you'll be a lawyer. Who woulda thunk it?" Jack laughed at his own worn-out expression.

"Oh, so this is when you're going to admit you didn't think I could do it? But, I won't be a lawyer until I pass the bar exam in July." Matt wasn't even going to think about what would happen if he didn't pass. He wouldn't get a chance again until the following February.

"Ah yes, the bar exam. Always sounded like something for bartenders to me."

"Well, if they start asking about drink recipes, I'd be screwed. I could think of some people in my class who might nail that one though."

"So, have you started looking for work?" The question wasn't just to make conversation. The sooner Matt could start paying his own way, the better.

"Well, they have these job fairs you can go to, and that's been going okay." Matt was grateful his dad didn't have a built in lie-detector. Things really hadn't been going great in that department. Most of the larger firms had only been interested until they found out he'd specialized in criminal law. "But Foggy and I have been talking about going into business together."

"You think that's a good idea?" Jack was surprised to learn about these plans.

"Yeah, why not?"

"I was just thinking with you being so young."

"We'll make up for it with our good looks," Matt said, trying to wear down his dad's resistance to the idea. He smiled, adding "Not that I know what Foggy looks like, but I've been hearing good things."

Jack scoffed. "I suppose you know what you're doing, huh?"

"I hope so. Foggy might not seem like the type, but he's going to be a really good lawyer. His dad has already offered to lend us the money to set up our own place. We know each other, and I really think it's a good idea. And I could just order all of my own equipment and get things working right away. It would even be easier, I think."

"Sounds like you boys gave this a lot of thought."

"I know you don't give Foggy a lot of credit, but he's good at this kind of thing."

"I have nothing against Foggy, you know that." Foggy came from a world that Jack didn't know anything about, but that didn't mean that he didn't like him. And he trusted Foggy completely as far as Matt was concerned. He'd been a very good friend to his son for the last six and half years.

"I know you don't, I just don't think you see him as much of a fighter. Foggy can work hard too, and he's real smart." Their approach to studying was different, but both of them had always come out on top. Foggy relied on his knack for sweating his way out of a jam by putting in endless hours at the library the last few days before an exam. Matt meanwhile, seemed to rely on an almost superhuman level of discipline.

"Well, you've always been a good judge of character. I just want to see you happy, son."

"I am, Dad. And I promise to pay you back."

"Pay me back for what? You don't owe me anything."

"Yeah, I do. I owe you for everything. It's important that I get to pay you back. I want to."

"I just did what dads are supposed to do. Nothing special."

"Now that's a load of bull and you know it. You know, sometimes I just want to tell you... Dad, I'm sorry I made such a big mess of things."

"What are you talking about?" Jack tried to make sense of Matt's expression. Even though his eyes didn't work anymore they could still speak volumes.

"The accident. I just keep thinking that if that hadn't happened, I could have helped out more. With money, I mean. Instead I just made things harder for you."

"Harder for _me_?" If Matt hadn't sounded deadly serious, Jack would have thought he was kidding. "If I ever wanted things to be different, it's for you. Not me. You hear?"

"I just want you to know that I know how tough things have been for you. And I never took it for granted."

"I know." Jack shook his head at Matt's concern. He was the one who had to live with the consequences of his heroism every minute for the rest of his life, and here he seemed more worried about what it had done to his old man.

"But the thing is," Matt hesitated, not quite sure how he was going to put it, "when I start making real money, I want you to quit. I want you to stop boxing."

"What? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm doing pretty well." Jack had had a long string of victories over the last year, surprising even himself.

"Dad, you're fighting guys half your age, and you're not getting any younger. I worry that you're going to get hurt." Matt couldn't tell him that he'd noticed how his father's breathing had changed slightly over the last couple of years. It was as if his body was beginning to wear out.

"I'm not stupid. I know I'm going to have to quit some day, but I've got some big matches lined up. Lots of money riding on 'em too. Besides, what would I do? All I know how to do is fight."

"I just... let me look out for you for once."

"Let's not talk about this now." Jack stood up again, as if to signal that the conversation was over. Matt had barely been back twenty minutes, but he sure hadn't wasted any time trying to talk his father out of his livelihood.

"I'm just trying to help."

"If you really want to help, you could come to the store with me and make sure we actually get something to eat tomorrow." Christmas dinner at the Murdocks' had never been a lavish affair, but for the last decade, Matt had at least made sure it was tasty.

"Nice change of topic there, Dad." Matt knew there was no point in pushing the matter further.

"Well, we gotta eat don't we?"

ooOoo

"Excuse me, what's the smallest one you have?" Matt was addressing the man pacing back and forth behind the poultry counter. It was probably a newcomer because it wasn't someone he recognized. The feeling was apparently mutual because the man didn't answer. "_Excuse _me?"

"What's happening, son?" Jack had stopped to sample a new brand of sausage which he was still eating from a small paper plate, and had fallen a few steps behind.

"Not much. What am I, invisible?" Matt turned back toward the counter.

Jack locked eyes with the poultry guy who suddenly seemed a little more cooperative. "Oh, hey... didn't notice you there. What can I do you for?"

"What's the smallest size turkey you have?" Matt made a conscious decision to brush the chip off his shoulder. It was always hard to tell if he was sometimes being ignored because he was blind or if that was just what people did. After all, not being waited on right away happened to most people from time to time.

"Well, it's Christmas Eve, we only have the small ones left. There's one at eight pounds left right here."

"That's perfect."

"So small is good, yeah?" Jack had finished his sausage and was looking around for a trash can.

"Yeah, they turn out juicier than the big ones. Besides, it's just the two of us." Matt kept one ear on the dead bird being wrapped up behind the counter.

"Who knew I'd end up raising Martha Stewart?" Jack shook his head and patted Matt on the back.

"Hey, it's all physics really. And you've never complained about my domestic skills before," Matt joked. Jack was from the generation of men whose only natural cooking duties were flipping burgers on the fourth of July and carving the turkey on Thanksgiving. All other kitchen tasks were approached begrudgingly and with little skill.

"Nope, but you certainly didn't get it from me." Jack reached out for the big package that was handed to him across the counter. "Are we all set now?"

"Just a sec." Matt pulled a note from his jacket and read it to make sure they had everything. "Yeah, I think we're good."

"Okay, let's go pay for all this." Jack studied all the contents of their shopping cart before dropping the turkey in. It was going to cost a lot of money, but at least he'd have leftovers for a week. And, he reminded himself, it _was _Christmas.

"I guess I know what I'm doing for the rest of the afternoon, huh?" Matt had decided to prepare as much of the food as possible ahead of time so all they had to do the following day was wait for the turkey to roast.

Jack started moving and felt Matt's hand on his arm for the first time all day. Matt knew every single section of the supermarket by heart - and by scent, though his father didn't quite understand the extent of it - but left it up to Jack to find a cashier. As it were, the cashier ended up finding them first.

"Matt! Holy shit! Matt Murdock?!" The voice was immediately familiar, and Matt couldn't restrain a smile. "Come over here, I'll open up this register."

"There's someone waving at you," Jack filled in and headed in that direction. Whoever this person was, getting first in line sounded like a good idea.

"And yet, she seems to know me." Matt and Jack got to the register and Jack started unloading the things. "Hey, Jessie. That's you, right?"

"Yes! Oh my God, I haven't see you in five years. At least!"

"Well, I moved out to go to college, remember? So how are you? You work here?" Matt turned to his dad and added, "Dad, do you remember Jessica? She used to read for me in high school." They had also dated briefly, but it didn't seem like something he had to mention.

"Yes, I thought you looked familiar." Jack hoped that sounded convincing enough. He knew every single one of the kids who would occasionally come to his home, but this young woman looked nothing like he remembered. She must have gained at least thirty pounds since then.

"Yeah, I've been working here six months now. It's okay, it feeds the kids." Jessie started passing groceries across the beeping bar code scanner and into a bag.

"You have _kids_?" Matt had to remind himself that he was now old enough to know people with kids, even though it seemed like light years away from college life.

"Yeah, I got an early start." Jessie shrugged. "So, you look awesome!"

"Thanks. You too." Matt smiled.

"Aren't you a funny guy!" Jessie laughed "I mean, assuming you're still blind."

"Yeah, still waiting for that eye transplant," Matt joked back. From what he remembered of Jessie, she'd always been fun to just goof around with.

"So whatever happened to you? Did you want to go to law school?"

"Yeah, I'm in my last year at Columbia so I'll be graduating in the spring."

"Wow, Mr. Fancy Lawyer, huh? You know, I used to watch every single episode of L.A. Law when I was younger, used to think it seemed _so _glamorous. It ain't so glamorous when you're in divorce court though, if you know what I mean." Jessie smiled again and just shrugged it off.

"Huh? So you got _divorced_?" Matt was relieved that the shades hid most of what would otherwise register as a very surprised reaction. When the heck did she find the time to get married, have kids _and _get divorced before he even got his law degree?

"Yeah, I could have used someone like you. My lawyer sucked."

"Well, that's not my specialty, but if you ever get divorced again, give me a call and I'll see what I can do." Since Jessie didn't seem to mind joking about everything, Matt couldn't see any harm in doing the same.

"Not a chance, I've sworn off men for life." Jessie rang up the last item and looked up at Jack. "Okay, that'll be eighty-five dollars and nine cents."

"Well, it was good seeing you again," Matt said as he was getting ready to leave, still a little overwhelmed to meet someone from his past so completely transformed.

"You too, Matt. Merry Christmas!"

As soon as they got out the door Jack decided to clue his son in on the whole story. "If that's the same girl you knew in high school, she must have put on quite a bit of weight."

"Well, apparently she had kids and stuff. Which blows my mind, by the way."

"You think maybe she ate one of them?" Jack laughed at his own joke. Jessie was still pretty in a way, but those cheerleader looks were certainly gone.

"Dad!" Matt laughed too. "You are so cold."

"Just telling it like it is, son." Jack felt the heavy bags pull on his arms, but it didn't bother him much. He was used to worse. He was also used to keeping an extra watchful eye on things. "Be careful, Matt. There's a lot of ice here on the sidewalk."

"Okay. Thanks." Matt had no reliable way of detecting patches of black ice with his senses alone, but it did feel and sound a little different under the tip of his cane. It wasn't just pretense that had made him decide to keep that thing; it did have its uses. Especially when his mind wandered the way it often did back on these familiar streets. His nose was busy inspecting the bakery across the street while one ear was tuned into someone ringing a bell a block ahead - presumable collecting for some charity - and the other listened to the sounds of his father's body. "It's good to be home, Dad."

"Yeah?" Jack often wondered what some bum like him would have to offer his increasingly sophisticated son, and the neighborhood seemed more like a reflection of him than of Matt.

"Yeah, it's like you used to say, we're a team. And I guess this is the home field." Matt smiled. For someone who didn't want his son to try out for sports, Jack sure used a lot of sporting metaphors.

"I guess we are, huh?" Jack felt a tug at his heart. There was something so completely unconditional about the love a parent had for a child, even a grown one, that he could never quite understand why his own father had been so brutal. Brutality had been a constant thing in Jack's life, and he was guilty of inflicting it as well. But as far as his son was concerned, it had been love at first sight. He had been very young then, and Matt had been the result of a loving and passionate, but ultimately doomed relationship.

When Maggie had left Matt in his care, Jack had promised himself that nothing would ever be allowed to harm him. He had broken that simple promise, and though he _knew _there was nothing he could have done, he wasn't sure he could ever completely forgive himself either. But he also knew that life didn't have to be perfect to be good. And, all things considered, life really wasn't bad at all.

Hours later, back in the apartment, it seemed like the last six years had simply melted away when Jack bent forward in his chair to get the remote and caught a glimpse of Matt asleep on the couch with his hand in a book. It was almost midnight, and Jack turned off the TV before getting up and pulling the book away from his son and putting it on the coffee table. He had no clue what those little dots meant, but hoped it wasn't school work. Matt never complained, but Jack knew how hard he pushed himself to get good grades.

"Matty?" Jack squeezed his son's arm and shook him gently. Matt woke suddenly and sat up, apparently disoriented for a couple of seconds until he remembered where he was.

"Oh, hey. I must have fallen asleep. Where's my book?" Matt scratched his head and yawned. Maybe letting himself relax hadn't been such a good thing. It had made him realize just how exhausted he really was.

"It's here on the table." Matt seemed content with the answer and nodded. "I was gonna throw a blanket over you, but it's best if you go to bed and get some real sleep, okay?" Matt nodded again, and Jack smiled at his son who suddenly appeared much younger than twenty-four.

"I'm so tired, Dad." Matt stood up and stretched and carefully walked around the coffee table. He was still groggy as hell.

"Get some sleep. We have to go to mass in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. Same procedure as every year." He said it jokingly, but he really did appreciate their shared traditions.

Jack saw Matt's hand gently brush the doorframe to his room. He'd made sure to leave the door all the way open before Matt arrived while doing the same standard check he did every time his son came for a visit. But there hadn't been many visits lately. They had both been very busy. Maybe there would be more time after Matt graduated. By then Jack would have another few victories under his belt, God willing. Maybe he'd finally follow Matt's advice and hang up his gloves for good. Even though he had to admit that the thought of that scared him more than any opponent. It wasn't going to be easy being just another man without a purpose.

ooOoo

Church of the Sacred Heart was one block east and three blocks north. Though Matt had never consciously thought about it that way before the accident, he'd soon learned to develop the appropriate level of interest in the cardinal directions to the point where it was almost impossible to turn off that inner compass of his. On this particular Christmas morning the wind was blowing in from northwest, carrying a salty scent of open waters with it, along with a raw chill.

While Jack had always been a spiritual man, possibly as a way to actually try to make sense of all the things that had happened in his life, he would save the strict and dogmatic approach to religion for mass. On more than one occasion while growing up, Matt had burst out laughing at the grave look on his father's face every time they went to church, which happened every couple of months, though he'd always had too much respect for the ritual itself to interrupt the service, instead saving the giggles for the walk there.

"Dad, relax." Jack was in his usual church mood, and Matt was going to try to poke a hole in his father's serious façade.

"I'm just trying to get in the spirit of things. You might want to try that yourself."

"I am, Dad. But you know this isn't Easter, right? Christmas is supposed to be the happy holiday, maybe you got them confused or something."

"You like mocking your old man, huh?" Jack had a smile in his voice that he knew he couldn't hide from Matt. He had a knack for picking up on all kinds of things people didn't expect.

"Yeah, it's fun. You know what I'm looking forward to?"

"What's that?"

"Those little old church ladies who like to get all dramatic and biblical. Why don't they just get me a ticket to Lourdes and get it all over with. You know, I've always wanted to go to France."

"Yeah, I bet you could do without that fuss, huh?" Jack knew exactly what Matt was talking about. There was a handful of older women at the church who seemed to take turns coming up to them to offer a 'bless yer heart, lad' along with a solemn promise to pray for Matt. Though he always joked about it afterwards, Jack knew Matt felt awkward about it.

"You'd think they'd give up after a while. It's obviously not working."

"Well, they come from different times and don't know any better so go easy on 'em."

"Yeah, I know." At least the priests had always been agreeable and there was always the chance that they'd bump into someone that Matt actually wanted to catch up with. Matt had never been to church by himself since moving out. His dad had never been strict about going regularly and Matt had developed a pragmatic stance as far as religion went. If he wanted to talk to God, he could do it wherever he pleased.

"Well, this is it." Jack stopped outside the church and stood up a little straighter. "Okay, son, straighten your tie."

"Fine." Matt's hand went up to his neck, but he couldn't really tell whether the straightening was needed and he suspected his dad was just on edge. "Will you relax already?"

Jack looked around and nodded to a few familiar faces passing by. "I _am_. Here." He touched the back of Matt's hand so he could guide him inside. It was easier in the dense crowd and had the added bonus of making his disability less conspicuous which helped minimize the amount of unwanted sympathy.

"Dad, your arm is tense, so don't lie to me. Come on, God wants you to be happy. It's Christmas." Matt smiled knowing that he'd finally broken down his dad's defenses.

"Okay, let's go. We don't want to miss the show."

The small church was no cathedral, but it blocked out a good amount of the noise from the street outside, and Matt found himself enjoying both the service and the music, though nothing could completely suppress all his worries about the upcoming final semester. On an intellectual level, he knew he was in good shape, but the fear of falling short of the finish line was overwhelming. _Let it go, Matt, it's Christmas_. And here he was picking on his dad for being tense.

After the service, he was offered the chance to take his mind off things. Thankfully, there were no little ladies this time, which might have been a first, but there was someone from his past who took the opportunity to come over for a talk.

"Well, if it isn't one of my favorite students." A man in his mid-thirties approached, and both Matt and Jack recognized him. "Hi Matt, it's Brian Sullivan."

"I know, I never forget a voice." Matt smiled and held his hand out to his old high school music teacher. "Wow, it's great to see you!"

"You too! Hello, Mr. Murdock." Brian shook hands with Jack as well.

"Are you still teaching?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, I'm still there. Though we have metal detectors at school these days, so at least that's changed." Brian shrugged. "Are you still in law school?"

"I'll graduate this spring. I can't wait to get out of there."

"Well, maybe when you're done you could come by the school and talk to the students. I tell ya, some of those kids need a kick in the rear. Can I say that here?" Brian laughed.

"Sure, I guess I could do that… But this won't be some 'blind thing', will it?" Matt had been burned once by agreeing to do an interview with the school paper as an undergraduate, and had the whole thing turned into some sappy inspirational crap once it saw print.

"No, I was thinking of it more as a 'lawyer thing' actually. I'd love to see even more of our students go to college."

"In that case, you're on." Matt finally decided that it might be fun though he wasn't so sure Mr. Sullivan would ever call.

"Matt, we better get going." Jack offered Matt his arm again to get them out of the church which was almost empty.

Brian followed them outside. "So, do you still play?"

"Not as often as I'd like. But when I can afford it, I'm definitely going to buy a piano. Thanks for teaching me, by the way. I'm just sorry I wasn't as promising as you might have hoped."

"Hey, don't worry about it. You're very good, but I always knew it wasn't going to be your big thing. Music is supposed to be fun, not everyone has to go out and make a career out of it."

"Like you?" Matt smiled at Brian's thunderous laughter.

"You crack me up. My big music career… Oh yeah, that's funny." He shook his head at the suggestion that getting a bunch of disillusioned teenagers to sing in tune constituted a bona fide music career. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. You guys have a merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too," Matt and Jack said in unison.

"So, what do you say we go home and open some presents, huh?" Jack didn't really care about whatever gift Matt had bought for him this year. Matt looked really happy, and that was the only gift he wanted.

"Yeah, and I'll start the turkey. And then I say we do absolutely nothing all day. That's honestly all I want."

"It's a deal."

ooOoo

"I think I'm about to burst." Matt was slouching on the couch with a severe turkey hangover and he knew his dad wasn't far behind.

"You and me both. I'll wash the dishes in the morning."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, after all the work you put in, it's the least I can do."

"Okay, sounds fine to me. So, how is that sweater fitting? Does it look okay?"

"It's perfect. Here, feel it." Jack held his arm out so Matt could touch it. "I haven't bought anything like this in years, but I guess you knew that, huh?"

"Yeah, I thought you could use something like that." Matt had deliberately chosen something he thought his dad might actually wear. Something that looked good but wouldn't strike him as too fancy. He always tried to look for something that was at least functional, and he usually received the same kinds of gifts himself.

"Thank you." Jack suddenly thought back to Matt's own creations from what seemed like a hundred years ago and let out a chuckle.

"What?"

"I remember some of those things you used to bring home from shop class when you were a kid. When you were really little I had to ask what the hell they were, 'cause I sure couldn't tell."

"Hey, I'm crafty," Matt said, pretending to be hurt. "I thought you liked my artwork." Then he couldn't restrain a laugh himself.

"Oh, you were crafty alright," Jack said as he got to his feet and pulled something off the shelf. "Here, you remember this one?"

Matt stretched out his hand and was rewarded with a plywood cut-out figure. He could decipher its form with his radar sense, but it only really came alive under his fingers. And he did remember. "Right, the bunny I made for Easter. What was this, kindergarten?"

"Third grade, I think. The teachers made you cut those out yourselves?"

"Nine-year-olds with a band saw? No." Matt laughed at the thought. "It was just a paint job as I recall. Geez, did I put sequins on this?"

Jack laughed. "Yeah, you did. You almost had me worried there for a while."

"You have all of my old stuff up there?"

"No, not all of it. But I guess I needed something to take up all that shelf space."

"Okay, next year I'll have to get some clay or something." Matt suddenly felt an old memory come back to the surface. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" Jack took his seat again. Matt looked like he was thinking hard about something.

"There used to be something else up there… I broke something. It was the summer right after the accident." Matt could tell right away that Jack remembered it too, but didn't seem to appreciate the reminder. "You remember that?"

"Yeah, I do. I was sort of hoping you'd forgotten about that." Jack sighed, knowing where the conversation was going.

"You never told me what that was. You said it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing. Was it?"

"No, I guess not. I still shouldn't have yelled at you like that." Jack cleared his throat. "It was something your mother left when she…" Jack knew that sounded like an odd thing to say about someone who had supposedly died because there was a suggestion of deliberate action. He really wouldn't have minded telling Matt the truth, but he was following Maggie's wishes.

"God, Dad… I'm so sorry." Matt swallowed hard. His dad's heart was all over the place, the way it always was when his mother was mentioned. But there were reasons for that and he'd never found it suspicious.

"No, it's nothing to feel bad about. It was just a _thing_, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter when things break. I was just… I guess you could say I was _fond_ of it." It wasn't a word Jack used very often and it felt strange coming out of his mouth. "It was a small figurine. The Virgin Mary. It wasn't all that pretty either, but I guess it felt good to have someone look out for us. It's silly, I know."

"No, it's not silly. I just wished you would have told me."

"I didn't want to upset you more than I already had. I can't believe I yelled at you like I did." Jack shook his head while he studied his hands in front of him. "You had enough to deal with as it was."

"I could have handled it. I don't want you to protect me from anything. Ever."

"Well, now is different. You're a man now. I'm not worried for you anymore."

"Good. You don't have to be."

"You don't need me anymore." For some people, not being needed was something to be feared, but to Jack it was a relief. He was hoping to stick around for the next thirty years, but he was no longer physically needed for anything. Matt would be okay.

"Don't say that. I'll always need you." Matt understood what his father meant, but he couldn't imagine not having him around. He'd always been there, for the good times and the bad.

"You don't need any looking after. And you'll be out there making your own money before you know it. It's as it should be." Jack put his hand on Matt's shoulder and squeezed it.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Matt smiled reassuringly.

Jack went on as if he hadn't heard him. "I never told you this, but when I was growing up, just a few blocks from here, there was an old man living down the street." Jack paused and corrected himself: "No, he wasn't old, it just seemed that way I guess. He'd been in the war, and… I guess he had his eyes shot to hell or something, I don't know. I just know that he'd been blinded in the war because that was about as much as anyone told us kids."

"What about him?"

"Well, we were all scared of him. He was very angry all the time, I guess all that fighting in France probably did something to his head too. Finally, he just blew his brains out."

"Holy shit, Dad." Matt didn't know what else to say. Jack had spoken that last sentence so matter-of-factly that it just made it all the more shocking.

"When they told me you were blind… I mean, I _knew_ you'd be okay. I did. But for the first couple of hours, all I could think about was this man. I don't know what I was thinking, but I couldn't get him out of my head. God, I was so scared." Jack looked up from his hands which he had studied closely for what seemed like an eternity. Matt didn't appear to be judging him, so he went on. "I'm not anymore. I haven't been for years."

"I know. It's okay, Dad."

"So this whole thing about you not needing me. I mean that... And it's a good thing Matty. If I die tomorrow, I'll know you're okay."

"Yeah. But you're not going to die tomorrow." Matt smiled. "You have to do the dishes, remember?"

Jack laughed, and patted his son on the back. "Yeah, I guess I do, huh?"

"But thanks for the talk."

"Anytime, kiddo."

ooOoo

Jack sat down on his bed, suddenly conscious of how badly his muscles were aching. He'd taken a couple of days off from the gym, which had only served to let the muscle soreness set. He opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a tube of liniment, even though he knew Matt hated the smell. When he put it back his eyes landed on an old souvenir from the past he hadn't looked at in years. It was an odd-looking disembodied porcelain head that most people with any sense would have thrown out. He smiled and picked it up. "Well, Maggie, wherever you are. You missed a hell of a ride. You missed a hell of a kid."


End file.
